And somehow the heavy odor of the pines and the chill silence was depressing.
It was his fate to see Mr.Abbott come first.

Unaware of the Irishman who drew back at his approach, his hot heart sick with disappointment, he opened the door of the cabin and went in, the inevitable book under his arm.

A second later the cabin window with its shade drawn, sprang out of the shadow, a yellow checkerpane of light.

Kenny stalked off, chafing intolerantly at the anticlimacteric tenor of his summer.
He saw her coming a long way off, her lantern bobbing along like a firefly, and walked faster.

Impatience brought a cold sweat out upon his forehead and then he needs must call her name before she could hear.
"Joan!" he called a little later.